


One More Bite

by springsnow



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Belly Kink, Belly Rubs, Cake, Come Eating, Cunnilingus, Established Relationship, Feeding, Feeding Kink, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, Kink Discovery, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Stuffing, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-03 20:57:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19472053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/springsnow/pseuds/springsnow
Summary: Tyler liked to think he knew himself pretty well. He would’ve been the first to admit he wasn’t exactly the sharpest tool in the box, but he was at least fairly sure he knew all (or at least most) of what there was to know about himself.And then Pete had to go and dothat.





	One More Bite

**Author's Note:**

> I don't have much to say about this one, really. It's Tyler feeding Pete chocolate cake (and yes, of course it's vegan). Enjoy.

Tyler liked to think he knew himself pretty well. He would’ve been the first to admit he wasn’t exactly the sharpest tool in the box, but he was at least fairly sure he knew all (or at least most) of what there was to know about himself.

And then Pete had to go and do _that_.

It was a perfectly innocent set-up, really, just them and Trent having lunch together in some out-of-the-way vegan place. Pete had ordered a burger, and Tyler wouldn’t have thought anything of it until Pete said _that_.

“Maybe I should slow down. I’m getting pretty chubby, huh?”

It was such a simple, off-hand remark, but deep in the recesses of Tyler’s mind, it sparked something. Tyler nearly dropped his fork, and despite the sudden stirring in the pit of his stomach, he managed to smile and gently slap Pete’s shoulder and tell him not to be ridiculous, he still looked gorgeous.

And then he’d excused himself, rushed off to the men’s room, and frantically jerked off.

Pete _was_ getting chubby, he was right. Not by much, and he’d always had a little bit of a belly, but he was definitely…softer. Thicker. His stomach was more noticeable now, especially in his ring gear or a tight-fitting shirt or tank top, and Tyler had to tell himself to stop looking at it when he rode Pete’s strap-on. His thighs had a little bit of a jiggle, and when Tyler knelt between them to eat him out, he couldn’t keep his hands off them.

And then there was the matter of Pete eating.

It was starting to become nothing short of an ordeal for Tyler to be around Pete while he was eating, which probably wouldn’t have been a problem if they didn’t live together. But they did, and every time they ate together, Tyler would have to make a conscious effort not to spend too much time watching Pete eat because if he did then he’d end up having to go jerk off.

One night, while they were eating dinner, Pete had leaned back and unbuttoned his jeans and burped, grinning apologetically.

“Sorry, babe. Gotta make room,” he winked, and Tyler’s cock almost fucking exploded.

Later that night, sitting in the bathroom with his hand covered in cum and clutching his softening cock, Tyler had sighed and thought to himself: _Maybe I SHOULD talk to him about it._

==

“Pete?”

“Yeah?”

Tyler shifted uncomfortably and licked his lips, wishing he’d thought this through more thoroughly. After a few seconds of awkward silence, he replied: “Never mind.”

“Oh, babe, please don’t do that,” Pete groaned. “It makes me worry.”

“Don’t, OK? It’s nothing, really.”

“It’s clearly something if you were gonna ask me about it.” Pete hauled Tyler into his lap with ease, and Tyler tried not to think about how soft and comfy his thighs felt. He laced his fingers with Tyler’s and looked up at him with cool grey eyes. “C’mon. What’s up?”

Tyler bit his lip. “I, um…well, I—I guess it’s like a, a kink or something.”

Pete’s face lit up, and despite himself, Tyler smiled. He shouldn’t have been too worried; Pete was usually open to new stuff. “A kink?”

“Yeah. You—you promise you won’t be grossed out?”

“Promise.” Pete kissed one of Tyler’s hands, as if to punctuate his statement. Tyler took a deep breath.

“It’s…it’s like I…well, I can’t stop thinking about you eating,” he blurted out. Pete’s eyebrows went up slightly.

“Eating?”

“Mm. I don’t know why, it’s just…it’s just kinda hot, I guess,” Tyler mumbled, blushing. Pete nodded thoughtfully, and slowly, a smirk began to creep onto his face.

“So every time I’ve eaten in front of you, you’ve been turned on?” There was a triumphant note in his voice that made Tyler want to tell him off, but he was too distracted right now.

“Not every time. Just…OK, I guess every time since that vegan place a few weeks ago. With the burger. When you, um—” Tyler took another deep breath. Pete rubbed his back. “When you said you were getting chubby.”

Pete was grinning by now, clearly absolutely loving every second of this. “You like me being chubby?”

“Only if you’re happy like that,” Tyler said quietly, and meant it. Yes, his boyfriend being all soft and pudgy _was_ so hot that watching him eat shirtless it made Tyler dizzy with arousal, but it meant nothing if Pete wasn’t happy.

“More than happy, babe.” Pete’s hands had moved to Tyler’s hips, and Tyler was sure he’d noticed the erection beginning to stir in his sweatpants. “I was actually kinda worried you’d gone off me, to be honest.”

“Of course not,” Tyler said, genuinely taken aback. “I think you look amazing.”

“Well, if you like it…” Pete rubbed his stomach a little, smiling when he heard Tyler’s breath catch. He pulled Tyler down for a kiss. “Is that why you’ve been resting your head on my stomach so much? Holding onto my thighs when you eat me out?”

“Maybe,” Tyler mumbled, grinning mischievously against Pete’s lips. Pete laughed.

“Cheeky little fucker,” he said playfully. Tyler smiled and nuzzled Pete’s neck. The tension had dissipated, and he actually felt better about the whole thing now. He let his hands drift down to Pete’s love handles and dwell there. Pete kissed him again, softer this time, and gently brushed his hair back. “I love you, Ty. So much.”

“I love you too.” And then they kissed again, and again, until Tyler was lying on the sofa with Pete’s soft, comfortable weight on top of him and his hands on Pete’s thick thighs, and it felt like they were the only two people on the planet. And Tyler wouldn’t have had it any other way.

==

Tyler had never considered himself much of a baker. Oh, he was a good cook, sure, but baking had never been his forte. But he thought he’d done a pretty good job with the cake. Under any other circumstances, he would’ve just asked Trent to come over and help, but there was no way in hell he was doing that this time. He had no plausible explanation for wanting to make a cake other than _watching my boyfriend eat turns me on_ , and Christ knew he didn’t want to have to talk to Trent about _that_. Pete had made some satisfyingly impressed noises when he’d come home and seen it, and all things considered, Tyler was pretty proud of himself.

“So how do you want to do this?” Pete had gotten changed into an old t-shirt (an old t-shirt that was just ever so slightly too tight across the stomach, Tyler couldn’t help noticing) and a pair of pyjama pants, and now he was sprawled comfortably on the sofa. He’d put Netflix on in the background, some crappy horror movie, and Tyler was fine with that. Having some background noise put him at ease.

“What do you mean?” Tyler asked.

“Do you just want to watch me eat, or do you want to feed me?”

Tyler’s brain went blank for a moment and he felt his cock twitch. He’d thought about feeding Pete plenty of times, but he’d assumed Pete would just want to eat the cake himself.

“Fuck,” he said, then blinked. “Um. I mean, if you’re OK with me feeding you, then…”

“More than OK. I was hoping you’d say that, actually.” Pete swigged his beer. “C’mon. I wanna cuddle.”

Tyler slotted himself up against Pete on the sofa, plate in one hand and fork in the other, and slid the first forkful of cake into Pete’s waiting mouth. Pete chewed and swallowed obediently, opening his mouth for the next bite without even being asked. It was hotter than it should’ve been. “Is that good?” he asked, feeding Pete a second mouthful.

“Mm,” Pete hummed. “More.”

Tyler obeyed, his hand shaking just a little. He’d been fantasising about this while he jerked off in the shower for _months_ , and now it was finally happening, it didn’t quite feel real. He tried to make a mental note of everything—the way Pete’s stomach strained against the too-small t-shirt, the soft little noises he made as he ate, the eager look in his eyes—for later, for the afternoons when Pete had gone out and it was just him, needing something to pass the time. He tried to keep his breathing steady, but it was getting difficult, and Pete had noticed. He looked down at Tyler’s groin and smirked.

“If you say anything,” Tyler said, his voice strained, “I will kill you.”

Pete laughed. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” 

He’d eaten a good third of the cake before he started slowing down a little. His breathing was getting more laboured and he was starting to get flushed, his cheeks turning pink. He shifted a little and pulled a face.

“Pete?” Tyler asked, putting the plate and fork down. “You OK?”

“’m fine,” Pete mumbled thickly. “I just—”

He leaned forward, grimacing slightly. Tyler put a hand on his side. “Do you need to stop?”

“No. No, I’m fine. Can you pass me the beer?”

Tyler handed Pete’s beer to him. Pete took a long drink, pressed on his stomach, and belched. Tyler took a deep breath and shifted a little.

“Thanks,” he said. “Now c’mon. I’m not full yet.”

“Are you sure you can handle more?” Tyler asked. “I don’t want you to get sick.”

“Nah, I’m fine. Feel that. Plenty of room.” Pete grabbed Tyler’s hand and pressed it to his stomach, and Tyler’s brain short-circuited. “Are _you_ OK? You look like you’re gonna pass out.”

He felt like it, too. It was starting to get difficult not to drool. “I’ll be alright.”

“Sure?”

“Pete,” Tyler groaned. “If we don’t finish soon I’m gonna cum in my pants.”

“Alright, alright. Wanna sit in my lap?”

He didn’t have to ask twice. Tyler grabbed the plate and fork and settled himself comfortably in Pete’s lap, taking a moment to gently squeeze the small strip of flesh now peeking out from the t-shirt, and began to feed him again. Pete’s hands were resting on Tyler’s hips, frustratingly close to his groin and his achingly hard cock, but never dipping lower. Whenever Tyler tried to shift to relieve some of the tension mounting in his crotch, Pete would squeeze his hips a little, holding him in place. There were crumbs and frosting in his beard now, and it was all just turning Tyler on even more. It was so hot he was getting light-headed. The film had been all but forgotten by now; all Tyler could focus on was Pete, the soft noises he made as he was fed, his hands firm on Tyler’s hips, the way his stomach poked out more and more from the bottom of his t-shirt.

There wasn’t much of the cake left when Pete held his hand up, signalling Tyler to stop. Tyler put the plate and fork down. “You OK there, babe?” he asked, trying to keep his voice even.

“Think I gotta stop,” Pete mumbled thickly.

“Want a stomach rub?”

“Mmf—in a minute.” Pete shifted on the sofa. “Eat me out first?”

Tyler groaned and slid off of Pete’s lap onto the floor. He knelt between his legs and hurriedly pulled his pyjama pants down, pulling Pete forward a little and burying his face between his thick thighs, licking hungrily. He was so hard he could barely think straight; all he could think about was how wet and hot Pete was and how fucking good he tasted, and how fucking _good_ Pete looked and felt like this, all full and aching and stuffed. He growled softly and delved in deeper, his grip on Pete’s thighs tightening, and was rewarded for his efforts by a loud moan from above and Pete’s hand in his hair. Pete came on Tyler’s tongue, thighs shaking, one hand holding Tyler’s head in place and the other gripping the sofa cushions.

Tyler pulled away, gasping for air, quite sure he was about to pass out. With his lips and beard still glistening with Pete’s cum, he looked up at Pete, pupils blown and cock pressing up against his tight shorts, a perfect picture of desperation.

“Pete,” he groaned, “Pete, please, I’m so fucking hard—”

Pete pulled Tyler back up into his lap and yanked his shorts down, wrapping a hand around his cock. Tyler cried out in relief and buried his face in Pete’s shoulder as he jerked him. His fingers scrabbled uselessly at Pete’s t-shirt and he thrust wildly into Pete’s big, warm hand.

It didn’t take Tyler long to cum. Pete stroked him through it, and when it was over, he held his hand up to Tyler’s mouth. Tyler licked his cum off, gazing into Pete’s eyes.

“Good boy,” Pete murmured, kissing Tyler’s temple. “Think I could do with that belly rub now.”

Tyler smiled and nodded. He slipped off of Pete’s lap and helped Pete wrestle his t-shirt off, throwing it to one side, and placed his hand on Pete’s stomach. He rested his head on Pete’s shoulder as he slowly rubbed small circles into his packed stomach. Pete wrapped an arm around Tyler.

“That was amazing,” he sighed. “We should do it again sometime.”

Tyler groaned softly and closed his eyes. “You’re gonna kill me,” he mumbled. Pete grinned.

“You wouldn’t have me any other way, would you?” he asked.

“You’re right.” Tyler leaned up to kiss his boyfriend. “I wouldn’t.”


End file.
